


I'm dying to live

by DangerDuchess, TheHiddenPassenger



Category: All Time Low, Bandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, M/M, something's gotta give
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 22:03:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4496406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerDuchess/pseuds/DangerDuchess, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHiddenPassenger/pseuds/TheHiddenPassenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their friend is changing. Every time, it seems to dig its hooks deeper and Alex is having a hard time coming back. How much longer will this last before he's more monster than man?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm dying to live

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what to say about this one save that it started from a silly RP. Wow won't it be fun to have the three of them screaming like girls as zambie!Alex chases their asses down? HAHAHAHA SO FUNNY.
> 
> it's not.
> 
>  
> 
> it really is not at all funny.

The change came slowly, so slowly, in fact that no one had noticed it until Alex had gone full aggro after a set and attempted to take out Jack's carotid with his teeth. He'd snapped out of it and remembered very little, save the fact that he'd nearly eaten his best friend. That was how it began, anyway.

No one could figure the trigger, nor could they understand why it was all happening. One thing was certain, however: Alex was getting worse. The spells of zombification were lasting longer each time and it was hard to get him back without risking life and limb.

“Maybe there's a trigger,” Rian suggested, fiddling with a human-shaped teething toy that had long since defrosted. There were teeth marks in it from their infected friend—if it was an infection. The three of them, Zack, Jack and Rian, were gathered outside Alex's basement door.

"We've just gotta _find_ the trigger and, like, never fucking pull it."

"Do we have to feed him?"

"If we don't, that door comes down..."

The scene was totally normal, except their subject of discussion, and the fact that their fourth was not with them.

He was behind said door.

Down the stairs.

In the dark.

Afraid?

No.

“He's hungry,” Jack pointed out, unhelpful with the whole thing as usual, “and chicken nuggets aren't gunna do it. The guy's a—”

“Don't,” Rian cut him off, “don't say it; it's weird and that just makes it real.”

They knew Alex needed raw meat to calm down. It had worked before. Steaks and that kind of thing were the usual, but something was changing. His diet leaned more toward long pork, they had discovered.

“I'm not blowing my wallet on Del Monicos for a zombie,” Jack growled, “even if he _is_ my best friend.”

“Well since you're so against _that_ plan,” Rian decided, grasping Jack's upper arms and levering him toward the door, “you can just go chat with him, see what you can figure.”

~

Earlier that day, they'd been brainstorming, all four of them, together. They sat in the living room, in their usual configuration, Jack draped over Alex, arms and legs, as if nothing was wrong. Alex had a people-shaped teething toy in his mouth and was fiddling with it, offering little commentary.

"Oh yeah dude it's cool. We aren't judging, right guys? It's just... Y'know every once in a while you get all bitey and shit? Kinda freaks Rian out,” Jack was drawling, fiddling with Alex's blue hair, which he found quite flattering.

“Excuse you,” Rian had snapped, “who almost climbed Zack last time?”

"We don't talk about that,” Jack retorted, poking a finger at Rian, who threw his hands in the air. "No need to argue about who the biggest fraidy cat is... Since we all know it's Zack."

"...said the man who hit like two octaves higher than any man should,” observed the quiet bassist.

"Hey I am not comfortable being disemboweled by someone I know!” Snapped Jack, turning to Alex for a quick apology. “Sorry man."

"Do they have to be shaped like people?" Zack asked suddenly, gesturing to the teething toy in their friend's mouth.

"Someone thinks it's funny," Rian said sharply, eying Jack with some disdain.

"Dude that's so tasteless,” responded Zack, adding his disapproval to Rian's.

"Tell that to _him_ ,” Jack said, gesturing to his friend, who seemed quietly content chewing his chilled toy. Jack's fingers remained laced in Alex's hair, removing themselves only when the conversation turned uglier.

"Maybe frozen meat would be better?"

"He just hacks up _real_ food... But waking up with a gut fill of raw shit probably won't help."

They all started to wonder if maybe it would be better to just put the guy down, but no one actually said it, partially because he was in the room and partially because—well for fuck's sake, he was their friend.

"Maybe it's actually like... loud noises or—"

“He's a fucking punk singer, dude.”

“Point taken... Rian, what'd you say the other day, something about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?”

“Yeah,” Rian confirmed, “like maybe...”

He never got a chance to finish his sentence as Alex's eyes had gone inexplicably glossy, dead and hungry. The bouts of violence had come randomly and seemingly for no reason, so no one noticed when Alex went ashen. He was not a shambling undead zombie; he was fast and so very hungry.

Jack didn't even hesitate; he disentangled himself and took off. Of course, Alex had snapped back, but they all noted it had been taking longer every time and the return hadn't happened until he'd swiped at Jack and had him on the ground.

~

Back in the present, the skunk-haired guitarist was shaking, fighting what was obviously superior strength, doing his best not to go into that basement.

"Get the fuck in there, Jack-ass; he's your best friend."

“If anything happens, we'll pull you out,” Rian promised. Jack was not appreciative of the gesture, at all. When the door closed in his face, he was even less pleased. It took a good minute or so for his eyes to adjust, as Alex's tantrum had put out the basement bulbs and then blown a breaker. Slowly, the shaking guitarist descended the stairs.

“Alex?” He called, upon reaching the bottom, “hey, buddy...where're you at?”

The grunt Jack heard was hard to mistake, but at the same time was completely unlike anything he'd ever heard Alex say or sound like in any context, bedroom included. He clicked his tongue in mock disappointment.

“C'mon man, you're gunna have to do better than—“

“Don't come any closer!” The shout was clear, though distorted and gravelly, as if Alex had been gargling nails. Jack could make out a silhouette, huddled in one corner against the cinder block garden his makeshift prison had become. Nothing grew here but despair.

But of course, Jack didn't heed his friend's warning and moved slowly forward, trying unsuccessfully to disguise his hitched breath, quickly-beating heart and shaking legs. Clenching and unclenching his fists was helping, but only a little.

“You know I just wanna help,” he cooed, reaching out to touch Alex from a half-kneeling position. It would be a little easier to haul himself upward and run if things got ugly.

“You're more afraid of me than _they_ are,” Alex hissed. The burning sensation Jack felt inside himself was not righteous fury, because his friend was absolutely right. The first time it had happened, Jack had just about screamed like a 9-year-old girl and jumped into Zack's arms. Granted, this was his usual maneuver when just about anything happened, but he'd not realized Alex was still aware of himself... that he remembered it.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “but here I am.”

“You drew the short straw,” Alex guessed. Jack laid his palm on the zombie-man's back and felt it tense instantly. It was chilly under his touch, unnervingly so.

“Yeah,” Jack couldn't argue with that one, either, “but... we need you back.”

Slowly, he was easing himself closer. Both hands were on Alex's back now, snaking around to his shoulders, which he, too was clutching. Those chilly hands gripped too tightly, but Jack didn't have the strength or willpower to pry them free, so he let his fall to Alex's biceps.

“You don't wanna be that close,” Alex moaned, keeping his cool through sheer force of guilt at jumping Jack the first time. His jaw was clenched and he found himself speaking through broken teeth, shattered from the pressure. Blood ran down his jaw and frothed a little when he voiced his concerns.

“No, probably not,” mumbled Jack, sitting down and scooting himself close enough that Alex was essentially sitting between his thighs, another unnervingly familiar position, threatening only under these circumstances. He was finding his courage as he settled into routine with his best friend, continuing to pretend Alex was not an undead monster, fighting with all his might not to whip around and gnaw Jack's throat out.

“You shouldn't be here,” Alex growled, half-warning and half-plea.

“No, probably not,” echoed Jack, his own earlier response ringing true even now. His arms began to close around Alex as he slid his torso forward, leaning to clutch at his friend's clammy, corpse-like body.

If any of them had been wondering whether or not Alex was really dead, Jack felt as though he'd just answered that. His best friend was not living, yet still crying, still shaking, still very much not okay. The tears were bloody, then non-existent, but the sobs hadn't stopped since they'd closed the door earlier and began debating what, precisely, was to be done.

“Next time, bring a gun. Just end me,” the undead man's voice sounded like that of a smoker of 70 years.

“I can't,” Jack whispered, “I'm too...I'm a coward.”

“I'm not,” Alex snarled. “It's safer. Better for everyone. Just give it to me and I'll do it.”

Jack's mouth found its way to a familiar spot just behind Alex's ear. He laid his lips there a moment, breathing in a scent that was familiar, but tainted with blood. He didn't really wonder whence the smell came, but was quickly confronted with the source as Alex began to writhe and twist in his grasp.

It was dark, but as the zombie broke free and knocked him away, Jack caught a glimpse of their singer's bloody maw, open in a gut-wrenching scream. He leapt for Jack, who scrambled haphazardly toward the stairs leading out of the makeshift oubliette. Rian was there moments later, brandishing a bat. He kept it pressed to Alex's chest, keeping him at arm's length. The beast hadn't fully taken over and so his movements were halted, neither quick nor predatory.

Zack raced down the stairs and collected Jack off the floor, tossing him over one thick shoulder and signaling with a single word, “HEY!” that they were both past the threshold and Rian was free to retreat. With a powerful shove, he forced Alex back and took off up the stairs, slamming the door bodily shut and managing to latch it just as the impact of the slender singer's body caused it to shudder on its frame. Zack had Jack pinned against the opposing wall, having set him down and wrestled with him a bit before Rian had arrived. Jack had been attempting to get past their bassist and return to his best friend, thankfully with little success.

Now Jack was limp, leaning more on Zack for support than trying to evade him. He was upright, hardly blinking, practically comatose but for his too-rapid heartbeat.

“You okay?” Zack whispered, tilting his face upward to address Jack more directly. The guitarist shook his head and shoved his friend off, shambling down the hall, away from them and toward Alex's kitchen. He wasn't crying, just imploding, collapsing in on himself. Alex's dead, hungry eyes were all Jack could see behind heavy eyelids.

“Well that was a fucking bust,” Rian groaned as the zombie's tantrum continued. Alex's tirade occasionally jarred the door, but mostly, it was focused on the basement itself. They were sure to find the place torn to shreds next time they made their way down. But they weren't going to let Jack go alone and they weren't going to be unarmed, that much was for damn sure.

“What the fuck,” Zack breathed, sliding down the wall and hitting the ground with a thump, “are we even supposed to do?”

Rian shrugged, helpless as his friends in this situation. No one had ever advised him on the do's and don'ts of keeping a zombie for a friend. They didn't know how it had happened in the first place. A cure seemed out of reach if they couldn't even manage to find the trigger.

Jack soon hobbled back into the hallway, a glass of water in his hand. It hadn't been sipped at, evidenced by the lack of beads on the inner lip facing the man holding it. He was simply searching for something onto which he could grip. In fact, he looked more like he was going to dump it on himself rather than drink it.

They both looked up at him, both searching him for any sign of cracking. He was no more or less damaged than the rest of them. This was both good and bad. Jack was Alex's longest and closest friend, so there was a lot riding on him. It was taking its toll.

No one wanted to speak, because no one had words. Even as the shrieking and howling died to moans and what sounded like shuddering sobs, no one, not even mouthy Jack, ventured a sentence. The silence was deafening, pregnant with unasked and unanswered questions, requests, demands...unvoiced fears, alongside the knowledge that something had to give.

Jack's hands shook as he finally lifted the cup to his lips and slugged it down in a few moments. Bringing it back down, Rian thought for sure he'd drop it, but couldn't risk leaving his post to catch the thing. Fortunately, the guitarist retained his grip thereupon and it did not make its final descent to the floor.

A deep intake of breath followed the water. Jack closed his eyes, nostrils flared, adam's apple bobbing with the effort it took to keep down terrified sobs. When he opened his eyes, they were steel.

“Let me back in there,” he said, pointing at Rian.

“No fucking way,” Zack hissed, standing and beginning to put himself between the two of them. Jack knew he had no chance and held up the hand that wasn't clutching the empty glass for dear life.

“Suck my balls. I wasn't asking,” Jack growled through gritted teeth. His knees were about to give out and both hands were decidedly shaking. “Just let me in. Give me the bat, whatever. I need to... I have to try. You think all this locking him up and whispering about him is helping the guy?”

“We don't know what the problem _is_ ,” Zack protested.

“Uh, my best friend is a zombie?”

Rian and Zack couldn't disagree. The four of them had come up with the safety plan together, of course, when Alex was lucid. Right now, however, it all seemed very cruel.

“Yeah, and he's trying to kill us all,” Rian sighed. “We can't just let him out, dude. And going back in there is liable to get you killed. Don't be dumb, man.”

The beating against the walls and door had stopped, but that didn't mean Alex was back yet. It was still very dangerous to even consider reentering.

“He told me to bring a damn gun, guys...offered to fucking shoot himself because I'm not man enough to murder my best friend for his own fucking benefit.”

The hallway went silent.

Slowly, Rian stood, relinquishing the weapon to Jack's waiting palm. The grip was good, old wrapping around a maple surface. It would do the job if—when—he needed to defend himself. He focused himself on that feeling, rather than the muffled sounds of agonized sobbing coming from the basement.

Zack stepped out of the way as Jack moved, receiving the drained water glass and a silent thank you from his friend, who walked past him to come face-to-face with their door guard. Rian shook his head, indicating he though this was a terrible idea, but grasping the handle nevertheless.

“Ten minutes,” Jack said with finality. “After that, come get me.”

“Alright,” Rian replied, opening the door for him and stepping out of the way.

“And guys?”

“Yeah?” Bassist and drummer replied simultaneously.

“Come armed.”

Neither of them needed to be told what _that_ meant. As the door closed behind Jack, sinking him into complete darkness, no one questioned to what the gangly guitarist referred when he said “armed,” they didn't want to properly address it. Like Rian had said earlier, saying it aloud made it real, cementing its horror.

Once more, his eyes adjusted to the depth of darkness on that stairwell in about a minute or so. The path was clear—it was really only one-way—and the goal even clearer. Jack simply followed the sounds of his friend's sobbing.

“Hey,” Jack cooed, “Alex...?”

Alex, or rather the shambling corpse that looked like him was wandering in the opposite corner of the basement, moaning quietly to himself. At the sound of Jack's voice his moans turned deeper, sensing the other's presence and the beating heart that came with it. Jack Barakat was, at that moment, no more than a scared child in the face of complete darkness.

“Hey,” Jack repeated, whispering and imitating the familiar, soft tone he often used after a sweaty “I-swear-this-is-a-one-time-thing” with his best friend. Alex's eyes were glowing and gave Jack's spine a real vibe treatment, though hardly the pleasant sort.

In the dark, Alex turned his body to face the man's outline, his moaned growls turning into all-out snarls. The heartbeat was quick, loud and blocked out all other sounds from Jack, including his plaintive voice. Without warning, Alex charged his friend, roaring as he ran at a quick, ugly, loping pace. As far as he knew, Jack was just a walking snack and he was so fucking hungry.

The guitarist drew the bat back and waited. Jack knew this was coming, could see the change in posture and hear the shift in sound and temperament. Jack was no baseball player, but he had a mean swing back in 4th grade tee-ball. He swung, hard, cracking his best friend across the head in an incredible feat of timing.

The monster grunted as it was hit flying to the side. It crashed into the wall near the bottom of the stairs, pawing about on the floor, shocked, hurt and momentarily disoriented. The only thing in its head was that heartbeat and the sweet promise of fresh meat. In the dark and on the ground, it could not locate this source, however.

Jack took this morbid opportunity and bonked Alex once more atop the head before dropping the bat and leaping onto his back. He wasn't exactly heavy, but his weight, combined with the disorientation of what would probably have killed the living version of Alex Gaskarth, was hopefully enough to work. He inched his mouth near the complaining zombie's ear.

“Can you hear me? We have ten minutes, Al'.”

The zombie huffed, groaning as it was sat on and held down. It struggled against Jack's weight, grunting and attempting to attack the man atop him to no avail. It resigned itself to stillness, moaning to protest against the cement floor. If it was Alex in any way, and if it recognized the man sitting on it—on him—the zombie made no acknowledgment.

Jack groaned to himself and shook his head. This was a fucking disaster and a half. At least Alex had stopped thrashing. He seemed almost calm. One hand made its way up to run fingers through soft, blue hair.

“I really don't think this is gunna end well,” he admitted quietly, “so I guess I'll have to say good-bye pretty quick here.”

The touch was surprising, making the monster jolt a bit, but after a while he fell silent, focusing on the singular sensation of the hand in his hair. In the dark, there was nothing else on which to focus. Even the mad dance of Jack's heartbeat had quieted a bit. Ever so quietly, in the dark, barely above a whisper, the body mumbled.

"...Jack...?"

"Oh thank god,” came the shaky response. Jack continued the gentle massage through that fine hair, keeping his movements slow and purposeful. It was a way to slow his own breathing as well as calm Alex down. He tilted his head to lay his lips behind Alex's ear. The hit to Alex's head was throbbing now, to his waking mind.

"God, Jack...," he muttered, "I tried to..."

Any words after that were lost as Alex's back shuddered, in a tearless imitation of sobbing. The pain was just too much for him, physical and mental. Knowing he'd tried to kill his closest friends had begun to overcome the bodily pain with a deeper, almost spiritual anguish.

Jack did NOT want to give Alex the opportunity to get up and murder him, but he also didn't want to crush the man's lungs either. He eased up a little, settling on his friend's butt to pin his hips. The familiarity of that heat and clothed flesh between Jack's thighs was somewhat comforting, but the circumstances were not.

"Your skull is a lot harder than usual."

In truth, his skull was in pieces from the hit, but part of being undead was he did not die, despite how he wished he was. But all that aside, the single most frustrating to him was that he couldn't cry. Even in his anguish, Alex couldn't even express himself properly.

"...I'm breaking, Jack... I'm gonna fall apart before too long, man..."

"I know, Alex, I know," Jack responded helplessly. He kept his fingers threaded in his friend's hair. "I'm just... Saying goodbye, I guess." Jack hated each word that came out of his mouth, hated himself for bashing Alex upside the head... Wished he knew how this happened. And with that, Alex closed his eyes, resigning himself to it.

"...g...good..." he swallowed, glad for his still heart. If he'd been alive it would threaten to come out of him. "...I love you man," he croaked out. "You... You're my best friend..."

"You too, Alex. You ah... You're basically everything good in me, y'know?"

The guitarist realized that bit was cliche or cheesy or whatever, but it was applicable, given the situation. Besides, how often did someone have to wish their best friend farewell? Few words came to mind thereafter and ten minutes was approaching quickly. Jack kept his hands on Alex, one on his back, one still in his hair. It felt good to at least touch him in his final minutes. Finally, Alex nodded, his wincing face still pressed into the cement.

"You mean so much to me, dude..." If he could cry he would be. Death didn't frighten him, it was his best friend saying good by like this. "...You... You're doing me a favor with this, I promise..."

"Somehow I don't believe that, but I'll take it," Jack responded, sucking his lower lip into his mouth moments after speaking, chewing down hard to keep the sobs away. They both heard the door to the basement open and soft footsteps on the stairs, Zack's quiet tone addressing Rian. They were armed.

"...I love you. I love all you guys so much..."

Rian and Zack reached the bottom of the stairs, looking around for their friends. The darkness hadn't ceded its grip on their eyes just yet.

"Jack...?"

"Over here," Jack whispered before bending down and laying his mouth on the back of Alex's neck. The contact was quick, chaste and covered the choked anguish threatening to bubble to the surface.

"We're ready," said Zack with some hesitance. He wanted to say goodbye, but as a man of few words, didn't know how. He reached the pair first, eyes adjusting to the frankly awful scene before them.

"Hey," Alex muttered. "C'mon guys,” his voice was more of a croak than any actual speaking, "last chance... Whoever ate the last of the pizza pockets, now's the time to fess up." Weak chuckling was the only response from the others.

"That was me," Jack rumbled, not actually lying about this one. He figured he owed his undead and dying friend some truth on that one. Looking up from his perch, he mouthed at Zack and Rian to give him the gun he knew they had. Zack was loathe to hand it over.

They had no idea how they'd cover this one up, but he let the firearm slip from his grasp to Jack's, who pressed it against the back of his best friend's head.

"You... Ah, you good, buddy?"

The cold metal against his head sent a cold chill through his body. The very real, very physical reminder of what was about to happen was now resting against his head.

"...y..yeah.... I love you guys..."

"We know dude," Rian said, failing at holding back tears but succeeding at keeping them out of his voice. They rolled down his cheeks in a way they'd never done before.

Alex sighed, closing his eyes. "....do it."

Zack reached for Rian's hand almost subconsciously, but didn't retract when he made contact. It burned him to watch his friend do this, to be so helpless in the face of utter darkness. Alex was so vibrant, so full of ridiculous dreams and inspiration. What had happened? What the fuck had he done to deserve this fate?

"I love you," Jack whispered, feeling the tremor welling up inside him and knowing that if he didn't pull the damn trigger now, they'd all die down here and Alex would awaken in a pool of gore. It was for the best, right? Tears fell freely down his narrow, goofy face and pooled between his thighs where he was straddling his now-warm friend.

"I love you too," Alex breathed, the smile on his face bittersweet and cracked, but a smile none the less. It would be better for them all with him gone, including him. No more rage. No more hunger. He wouldn't be a danger to them anymore... With his eyes closed tight, he accepted his fate and waited for the looming trigger to be pulled.

Jack's heart did an ugly samba in his chest as he pressed the barrel inward, feeling the pieces of Alex's skull that had dislodged upon contact with the bat move about as he did so. His finger switched from a safe grip around the guard to the trigger itself. Zack squeezed Rian's hand, noting the change in grip. He had no tears, but not for lack of feeling.

Jack swallowed as time ticked by in slow motion. No one registered the sound of the basement door splintering inward, several armed police officers following it in and tramping down the stairs with painfully bright flashlights to guide them. Jack had just about gotten up the courage to finish it when a rather thuggish officer in swat gear grabbed him under the arms and pulled him bodily off his friend, the gun falling harmlessly out of his hand.

Before Zack could react, he felt his knees give out from a harsh kick to the backside, along with a shove to his upper back which brought him down. Rian suffered a similar fate. Sounds of "nobody move" and "hands on your heads" filled the confined space, likely jarring the zombie...

Alex's cry of "Jack, do it!" was quickly drowned out by the sudden swarm of officers. And in that moment, Alex was gone and the monster wearing his corpse returned. In a flash he was on his feet again and lashing wildly out at the nearest human, in this case it was Jack and the officer holding him.

As the light hit Alex's mangled face and ice blue, glassy eyes, the officer exclaims, "Jesus Fuck!" He goes for his gun, quickly abandoning his grasp on the man in his arms. He unloaded at least two shots, only one actually hitting Alex in the arm before the zombie was on him, teeth sinking into flesh with horrifying speed.

Thank god the _officer_ had pissed Alex off first, because he'd been bearing down on Jack. The other two were up and struggling against their restraining officers, who were just now drawing their guns and tossing the humans aside to favor Alex. Even their training didn't prepare them for reaction in this kind of situation.

Jack was numb for a few seconds, having been tossed aside like so much garbage. He'd hit the wall hard, his bell rung by the impact of the cinder block and his head. Moaning was all he could do for the moment, trying to regain his bearings.

Meanwhile, the first officer screamed as Alex dug into him with his teeth, ripping him apart with horrifying glee. Oh, the fresh flesh and blood was just what he'd needed. A few yards back, one officer was shaking and the other was at a complete loss.

The shaky one actually gave a warning to Alex before he fired a shot, hitting the Zombie in his chest. The monster looked more offended than disturbed, as his current victim wasn't even dead yet, and already someone else was pissing him off, just asking to be eaten.

"KILL HIM, FUCKING KILL HIM OH GOD," cried the bleeding officer.

"Nonono! Don't shoot!!! You'll just piss him off, you need to get out!!!"

Zack was manhandling the only female officer on the team, insisting she cordon the place off and save herself. He acted as a guide for the last two, helping them back up the stairs.

Rian quickly grabbed the discarded gun from the floor and shot the officer Alex was already ripping into. The last thing they needed was another zombie. It was a cold move but it had to be done. They weren't sure if this sort of thing could spread, but why take that chance?

"Everyone needs to get out of here!”

Jack pushed off the wall momentarily and shook himself, feeling a telltale warm trickle down his forehead, leaking into his eye. He touched the spot gingerly, groaning and completely unaware of even the gunfire right nearby.

The zombie had returned to gorging itself upon the fresh meat in front of him. The scent of blood was one he couldn't miss, however, even when he was already covered in someone else's. Slowly his head turned on Jack, a low growl starting in his throat. The man was wounded. Easy prey. Perfect.

Well fuck. Everyone was separate from Jack. No one was about to jump between him and the zombie, either. He didn't even realize Alex's attention was on him until it was likely too late. The ringing in his ears and head in general had yet to subside as he examined his red-stained fingers. Looking up moments later revealed only glowing blue orbs in the dimness of the basement, still hunched over the dead officer.

The zombie rose then and quickly moved towards Jack, roaring at the man as he did so. with a shockingly tight grip, he forced Jack back against the cement of the stairs. Higher up and out the door, Rian and Zack were still ushering cops out. Rian was the first to notice Alex's advance upon Jack, but couldn't think to do much else than shout an ineffectual:

"JACK, NO!"

"Get the fuck OUT!" Jack shouted, coming back to proper consciousness in time to get his arm between himself and Alex. "Close the goddamn door!"

With Alex atop him and his friends out of reach, there was little chance for rescue, but he had to accept that if he was going to make up for all the cruelty in the past couple of months. His focus was back on Alex momentarily, free arm—the one that wasn't holding Alex's throat far enough back so he didn't bite—swung about and brought his hand to the side of the now-blood soaked head and grasped it.

He fully expected his own body to react violently and try and shove Alex back, but instead, Jack found himself gripping the man's hair in a strange, but familiar, massage grasp. He was essentially tickling Alex's head, as he'd been doing—and stopped—the last time his friend had lost it outside the basement.

The zombie ceased almost all motion, its face still curled into an ugly snarl, but it didn't launch itself at the man nor did it turn its head to bite at Jack's arm. The attention, the touch, it was such a surprise to the visceral creature. Slowly, slowly Jack watched as the hatred and rage drained from the gore-splattered face of the singer.

After lingering minutes, Alex took his body back, the pain held at bay by rage flooding in. The blood on him, the look on Jack's face... It told him all he needed to know.

"Oh God," he shuddered, unable to stand, quickly falling to the ground as what he'd just done sank in. "Oh, GOD!"

Jack sank with him, hand still scratching at his friend's head. He felt movement in Alex's skull and knew he could not survive with this level of trauma. But he really wasn't alive anyway, so what was the difference?

To Alex's exclamation of realization, Jack offered nothing. He really couldn't, given their circumstances. Despite the blood frothing from Alex's mouth and the despair which howled therefrom, Jack leaned forward.

"I'm weak," he mumbled, "I couldn't pull it. Forgive me..."

"Oh god..." he cried again, bringing his hands to his face, only to find them coming away drenched in blood. "Oh... God!!"

Hysteria began to set in and he was shaking, barely aware of Jack's presence as his world collapsed on itself. Alex had done exactly what he had been afraid of. Despite telling himself not to, he looked over at the body of the officer, shot dead with a gaping hole in his chest and throat.

"Oh fuck," he choked, instantly looking away. That was what he had done, with his own hands and mouth. This is what he'd come to. He'd really become a monster.

"This shit," Jack gasped out, grunting and levering himself around so he could actually clutch Alex hard with both arms, "it's not you. It's not your fault."

Though the evidence suggested the contrary, Jack felt it was his solemn duty to lay his friend to rest as peacefully as he could. A perfectly valid firearm was laying a mere foot away from both of them. Jack would have to grasp it eventually, but he wasn't ready yet.

"I thought I could let you go knowing you weren't you anymore, but you're still in there and I..." The door was closed by then, Rian and Zack on the other side of it, trying their best to explain the situation to the terrified officers.

Alex swallowed, Jack's words calming him down a bit. It helped just to have something else to focus on that wasn't the blood and murder surrounding them.

"Jack..." he croaked, face twisted with fear and sadness. "Jack, I have to go." He shook his head, the pain of everything he'd done threatening to crush him. "You have to do it... Or I will.”

"How do I even know the gun will work?" Jack squealed, panic rising like bile in his throat. Alex was full of holes and his skull was shattered. What made any of them think a simple shot to the head would do the trick? He grasped at whatever he could reach on the undead man, trying to make him understand how little he was able to do this--to kill him.

"I don't know, I'm just... Hoping..." It wasn't that he wanted to die; he needed to. He couldn't live like this. This facsimile was not life, or even a pale imitation. It was all just too much and too painful. Every moment he was still around was just a ticking time bomb until he killed someone else. "Just... Do it till I stop moving, man, please... I fucking. Can't. Stay like this...."

Jack found himself reaching for the gun before his fear could stop him. The metal was chilly in his hands, unforgiving and final.

"I'm gunna do this for you, man."

The guitarist didn't add that afterward he sure as shit planned to stuff the barrel into his own mouth and eat it.

Raising the chilly death machine to Alex's forehead was easily the most difficult thing he'd ever had to do, but that was the kicker; it had to be done. Upstairs, a less-than-successful interrogation was unfolding, and both the others had found themselves facedown on the hardwood floor as two of the swat team members stepped over them and quietly eased the door open.

What they saw was not at all what either expected, but was still alarming. Alex's eyes were apparent in the gloom, but they appeared to be focused on the man in front of him, both holding _him_ and holding a gun to his head. A burst of rapid fire from a submachine gun held by shaky hands was the only answer to those eyes.

A rat-a-tat later and blood splattered Alex from fresh exit wounds on Jack's chest. The bullets had gone through Alex, as well, but he'd not felt a thing, so focused was he upon his friend's face. Jack looked down momentarily, and then back up, expression apologetic.

"Now or never," he croaked. "I can't squeeze this trigger. You gotta... You gotta help me."

Alex nodded, swallowing hard as he putting his hand's around Jack's and he gun.

"Race you to the other side," he offered with a weak smile. They didn't have much time now. He had to do this fast before the blood got to him; it smelled so fucking good and he was a pit of ravenous hunger. But he had to just get out one more thing. "I love you, Jack..."

And with that he closed his eyes; a steady finger pressed down on the trigger.

The rapport was louder than anything Jack had ever heard in his life. Blood and gray matter splattered the wall behind Alex, whose body slumped in Jack's grip. He drew the firearm back and looked at it, contemplating the power to steal life away just like that.

"I can't lose..." He heard the stairs creak with boot steps, but drowned them with the feel of metal between his teeth. This time, squeezing the trigger was a lot easier.

The officers rushed down the stairs, only to find the collection of bodies and visceral matter across the floor. So much was wrong and no one knew how to call it. One officer lifted his radio helplessly, letting it fall to his side having alerted their precinct of precisely nothing. 

Rian and Zack were hauled off and settled in the back of a police cruiser by a pair of tall, severe-looking female officers. The officers a few, muffled words and Zack could have sworn he heard the echoes of cruel laughter issuing from behind tight, high ponytails. A mug on the cruiser's dash bore a strange, black and white frowning visage with x's for eyes. The bassist shuddered, swallowing back the thick lump in his throat. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was right, wasn't I? You're not laughing.


End file.
